Lament
by Scribbler
Summary: [one shot] Follows on from Fallin' Off the World. The fateful training session seen from the perspective of one who wishes the world were a very different place. Jubilee fic. [One sided femslash]


DISCLAIMER: You know it, and I know it, but let's say it anyway. I know noth- er, I own nothing; least of all a popular and lucrative TV show.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the third part of a fic of mine entitled 'Fallin' Off The World', which had to be moved here on account of the more mature themes. However, I think it can also be deemed a fictive in its own right if people don't want to go and read the first two parts.   
  
I can guarantee this is a couple that has never been seen before, and will most likely never be seen again, either. Also, this is my attempt to rectify how WB made Bobby the leader of the New Mutants. When I first saw it I just sat there and thought, 'Bobby? The original Mr. Irresponsible?' I know now they were grooming him to take Evan's place, but still, Bobby as leader just never sat right with me.  
  
Draws heavily on comic-verse and the universe I created in 'New and Improved', but a prior knowledge of either isn't strictly necessary. Let me also take this opportunity to say that I always promised myself I was never going to succumb to the pure-angst machine, but it ground me up good and proper and spit me along with this offering. Much as I dislike the 'tragic-past' schtick that can turn an OC into (the horror!) a Mary-Sue, it abounds in the original comics, so if anything seems rather far-fetched here, chances are you can blame it on Marvel. Or not, since if they find out I've been criticising them they'll set their lawyers on me and my pithy little disclaimer, and... I... yeah... um, maybe I'll just shut up now and let you get on with the fic.  
  
TANSTAAFL - 'There ain't no such thing as a free lunch'  
  
___________________  
'Lament' By Scribbler  
(a.k.a. 'Fallin Off The World' Part Three of Three)  
  
___________________  
_Through Jubilee's Eyes_  
I remember that morning very clearly. That was the day my heart broke.  
  
Nice way for me to introduce myself, huh? Hi there, how are you? Me? Well, somebody ripped my heart right out of my chest and stamped on it the other day, but I'm fine. Honestly.  
  
You might think I'm being melodramatic when I say that, and I wouldn't blame you. I have what's commonly known as a reputation for it amongst my teammates. I know that they say I'm wont to fly off the handle sometimes - that I'm flighty. Maybe they're right. I don't know. I haven't got a crystal ball that shows me how I look to everyone else.   
  
I do know that the older kids don't take me very seriously, though. Well, I'm not entirely sure if they ever did, but certainly not after the whole joyriding fiasco. They don't think much of my powers, either. I have to admit, my abilities aren't up to much. I mean, I can't shoot lasers out of my eyes, or walk through walls, or anything really cool like that. Mine's pretty much all spectacle and no substance. Still, they've gotten me out of a few tidy jams before, especially back in California. They were the reason my entire life did a 180.  
  
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Um, how to start? Should I just go back to that morning, or do you want to know more about me? Actually, that's probably not such a bad idea. If I tell you about that training session without explaining a few things first you'll just think I'm a nut. Or sick. Call me whichever, I don't care. Believe me, I've been called worse before.  
  
So, let's go back, then. Way back, to... the beginning? As good a place as any to start, I guess.  
  
I was born and raised in Beverly Hills, California. Sounds nice, doesn't it? It was. Still is - not that I've been back there recently. The Xavier Institute's plush, and cushy as hell, but if you want action and a place that sells juice in over a hundred flavours, then California's the way to go. Especially my old neighbourhood. Talk about swanky! Around where we lived, the tourists travelled in herds bigger than those wildebeest Beast watches on the Discovery Channel, and were forever plaguing normal folk as they chased after the famous and soon-to-be-so.  
  
My parents were both Chinese immigrants, so I guess you could say I'm first generation in two senses of the word. I never knew my Mom. She died having me, right there in the delivery room. I forget the details - my Dad was never very forthcoming on the matter. I know that he loved her very much, though, because he never remarried, or even so much as had another girlfriend, and once or twice when I snuck into his bedroom as a kid, I saw that he kept a picture of her in a gold frame next to his bed. She was really beautiful - and I'm not just saying that because I'm biased, either. I think the phrase they use in novels is 'classic' beauty. You know, like in the old movies where they've airbrushed out all the flaws so that people's faces look absolutely perfect? Well, that was kind of what my Mom was like, only she didn't need the airbrushing.  
  
Sometimes I wish I could've known her, and I wonder whether she'd still be alive today if I hadn't come into the world.  
  
My Dad was a quiet man, always working and spending most of his time in his study. His forte was numbers and maths, and he made a lot of money on the stock market. Not enough that we were millionaires or anything, but enough that we could live where we did, and enough that I was sent to a pretty exclusive school where practically everybody'd had a nose-job before they were even ten years old.   
  
I loved my school. Yeah, I know that sounds really weird coming from me, but I honestly did like that place. My academic achievements weren't up to much - not the same standard as my Dad, at any rate - but I excelled in other areas. Gymnastics, mostly. By the time I was seven I already had four gold medals from various junior competitions I'd entered, and five silver. I used to display them on my bedroom wall along with all their certificates, and every night before I went to sleep I'd count them. Kind of like a ritual, left to right, big to small, always counting the gold before the silver.  
  
Life was good. My Dad was reticent, sure, and sometimes I got the feeling he was avoiding me, but I didn't mind. Eating dinners off my lap and taking myself to and from school and the mall was no biggie. As a matter of fact, it made me lot more independent than other kids my age. Something I'm truly grateful for today.  
  
Then, in space of a single weekend when I was thirteen, it all went pear-shaped in spectacular style. I don't know all of the particulars, since, like I said, my Dad never talked to me much about anything, let alone his work, but it turned out that he'd been having problems on the stock market recently. Nothing too major, but it was causing him a lot of undue stress he could well have done without. All I knew about it was that he went from the front door to bed every night instead of stopping for any dinner I'd made. I had to squeeze it out of people later what actually happened, since they were all insistent on treating me like a worthless kid and not telling me anything.   
  
The big blow came on a Saturday, usually my favourite day of the week, on account of I had Gymnastics coaching in the morning, and generally went mall crawling in the afternoon. Overnight we'd lost all our money, making us destitute. Just like that - *poof*, all gone. The strain was too much for my Dad, and he had a heart attack. He died in the ambulance on the way the hospital, and I was left orphaned, penniless and too young to legally take care of myself.   
  
He never once said 'I love you'. Not once. Thinking back, I often wonder now whether he blamed me for my Mom's death. It would explain a few things, like why we never got very close, even though deep down I did love him. He was my Dad after all, and he always treated me right no matter what happened, so how could I not? But he never let me hug him, and whenever I watched TV on the couch I always did it alone.  
  
Without my Dad around, things fell apart pretty damn fast. Before I knew what was going on our house was gone, most of our possessions sold, and I was moving in at Los Angeles County Juvenile Hall. I had to switch schools since I couldn't afford my old one anymore, and all my gymnastics went out the window along with most of my medals. Of course, they were taken, but I hid one. The smallest gold I got for bar and beam not long before Dad died, just the right size for me to carry around in my pocket with me wherever I went. But all the others, all my achievements were taken away. I suppose that's where my resentment of those people, my new 'carers' started.   
  
I won't bore you with the details of my brief stay, other than to say that I hated each and every god-forsaken minute of it. I learned stuff there, just not the things they intended. I had to learn to defend myself, and got a few good moves out of some kids as well as making up a few of my own that I still use in Danger Room sessions to this day. Logan doesn't always understand how I know the stuff I do, and I'm not about to tell him either.   
  
'Inmates' I called the other kids, and I started brewing a hell of a lot of bad feeling for the people who'd dumped me away, where I wouldn't get in their hair. I stopped trying in school - what was the point? They took my gymnastics away from me, so I didn't see any reason to keep my grades up anymore. Some days I didn't even bother leaving my room.  
  
I got a peek at my records once. The carers had written that I was 'rebellious' and 'defiant towards authority'. And why the hell shouldn't I be? Those people in authority never did me any favours. Any opportunity I could get to show them up and make them look bad I did with relish, until I had another, quite different reputation to the one I have now.   
  
Then they arranged for me to be moved to another orphanage. There was a meeting I had with the big cheese of Juvenile Hall to tell me, and a couple of things he said really brought it home what was going on. Like a kick to the stomach, as ray would say. Leaves you breathless, but you know where it came from. I was being moved, yeah, but this time, he told me not to bother unpacking my things once I got there. No foster family would take me because of my 'problems', and they were, as he so pointedly put it, 'running out of options' for what to do with me.  
  
I could see what he meant a mile off. Couldn't have signposted it better with a big neon arrow. I had no family here in America, and in the eyes of the state that meant only one thing. Sending me to my relatives in China and granting them custody.  
  
I don't know what was worse; discovering what they were planning, or realising that I'd shot myself in the foot by acting up. It was too late to fix things; my records are practically indelible, like a brand in my side. I'd been labelled 'difficult', and I'd learned enough from the other kids at that point to know that mean I was a no-hoper as far as foster families went. They wanted sweet, docile little things, not a problematic teen like me.   
  
So I ran. Just packed what I could one night and bolted. It was easy enough to sneak out; almost like they'd wanted me to go, or at least given me the option. I had to wonder how many other kids had used the same route, because the trellis was positioned within easy reach of my window, and the path out of the grounds looked pretty well-worn considering nobody was supposed to know it was there. Maybe I'm over-thinking things a bit, but it seemed that way at the time. After all, what was one more runaway to those bigwigs? Less paperwork on their hands if I was gone, and they could just write me off without any difficulties that way. Whoops, there goes another one. Too bad.  
  
I didn't know where I was going, or what I was planning to do once I got away from the Hall, but frankly, I didn't much care to consider it. The future was a pretty grotty prospect as far as I was concerned. So I kept to the present instead, and made for the one place I could think of that would hole me up until I could properly figure out what to do - make a plan or something. Organise myself a bit.  
  
Hollywood Mall's a creepy place at night, but it has enough shadows to keep someone small like me hidden. I'd spent enough of my childhood there to know where the best nooks and crannies are, and the better part of their security system is more familiar than the back of my hand. So it was easy enough to get in and stay in. At the time I thought it would only be for the one night, or at most a few days until I got a better plan together.   
  
It turned out to be a lot longer.  
  
I realised pretty damn quick that I could sit on my hiney and think as long as I wanted, but there *was* no real plan of attack for me to make. I had no home, no family, and barely enough cash to buy a doughnut from the vendor in the parking lot. I considered bumming some time by staying at my friends, but that idea dried up pretty fast when I spotted them going into a store and they refused to even look at me. Fair-weather? Let's just say, there was only camaraderie when it was raining pennies. And I actually wondered why they never wrote to me.  
  
So I stayed put. Easily done. Mall security personnel are all a bunch of morons that rumble off the same conveyer belt anyway. Probably all share a single brain cell, too. Believe me, Jamie's cloning has nothing on these guys. The security cameras were a bit of a problem, but once I knew where they all were, it was simple enough to avoid them. I had it pretty good at the Mall, since I'd taken enough clothes with me to at least look respectable during the day so that they wouldn't suspect what I was really up to when I scrunched into crowds and squeezed into already packed elevators.  
  
Making the connection? Let me spell it out for you. Yes, I was a thief.   
  
Nothing too major, just pickpocketing, and maybe a few five-fingered discounts when I could get away with them. A few tricks I'd picked up off one of my 'cellmates' back in Juvenile Hall coming in handy, is all. It's not like I held up any stores or anything, and I was careful not to take from anyone who looked like they couldn't afford it. You know: old people, little kids and the like, but anyone else who was dumb enough to leave their wallets and whatnot on display was asking for trouble, and I obliged. Hey, it was either that or starve. What would you have done? Don't judge me until you've been in the same situation, pal.  
  
Where was I? Oh yeah, hiding out at the Mall.  
  
Hiding out. That makes me sound like some sort of criminal, doesn't it? I suppose I am, in a way. No records on that front, though. My gymnastics proved pretty useful in getting away from security. I can still remember the looks on their faces as they tried to figure out where I'd gone.   
  
Still, things were thin. Contrary to popular opinion, it's not actually all that easy to pickpocket. Sure, the posters on the bus always say 'watch your bag, because someone else is too', but half the time that's all I *could* do. Just watch the things, but never get a chance to bring home anything. A lot of nights I went hungry, and sleep was the only way I could get away from a gnawing gut-ache. You think I'm skinny now? You should've seen me back then. I made Kate Moss look like an elephant.   
  
Some men like their women skinny.  
  
Hunger can make a person do stupid things. Reckless things. Desperate times, and all that jazz, right? Right?  
  
God - I was at the end of my tether, but... God.  
  
I locked a lot of memories from those times away, deep inside my head where I'd never have to look at them again. Nights spent cowering in the doorway of some derelict building when the Mall big wheels finally got wise and hounded me out. The smell of cigarette ash mixed with delicious smells from the coffee-house across the street. I used to stand in front of the vent, next to the back entrance, as if I could drink the scents like those people inside drank from their mugs. Something to warm my insides, even if it wasn't real. They never even looked up as I trudged past, staring at them, hating them for having what I used to. Just another street punk, not worth bothering about.  
  
I saw things back then. Terrible things. Things that'd give most folk nightmares if they so much as saw them in a movie. At the ripe old age of fifteen, I think I've borne witness to practically every horrific thing human beings are capable of doing to each other, bar nuclear attack.   
  
I don't even know the name of the first one. He just came up to me one evening as I stood watching people go by and asked if I wanted something to eat and a place to stay for the night. I simply looked at him at first. It was Christmas, and I'd already had my fair share of shoppers' goodies from their bags and purses, so I had a little more cash than usual. But still, I wasn't willing to part with it so quickly, and I demanded to know what he wanted in return. Some folks think it's funny to play games with street-people, to laugh at them and take them for mugs. I used to be one of them, so I was warier than most for tactics.  
  
Turned out he didn't want cash. 'Company' he called it. I was so naïve in that arena that I didn't fully understand what he meant at first. Then when it sank in I was scared, but he was pleasant enough about it. Rather softly spoken, in fact - not like a lot of people you find out there, and he said that if I didn't want to he'd leave me alone and find someone else. Plenty more fish in the sea - or punks on the street, as it were.  
  
I watched him leave. I even let him get all the way to the corner, biting my lip and looking around to see if this was all part of some elaborate hoax. Wondering if I was really that desperate. Then I ran after him, my aching guts making me sprint when I had scant energy to do more than amble. I took his offer, and spent that Christmas Eve sleeping under his weight, wondering what'd become of my life.   
  
I didn't do it much. Only when I really, truly had no other option. A hot meal in my belly was always too good to pass up, and I learned a few new tricks in those times. Tricks I'd never want anybody else to learn or have to know. I learned to keep my hair short, because it doesn't pay to give clientele anything to yank on in the throes of passion. I learned to take care of my clothes beforehand, because if it's not theirs then they rarely take care of not ripping it, and I hadn't got enough moolah to buy any new duds. Little things that kept them happy, and tore a little piece of my souls away each time I had to use them. I thought I'd go mad, and when they fell asleep on top of me I'd cry into whatever scraggy blanket they'd brought along, if any.  
  
I started to hate them. All of them. People. Mostly men. I'd see folks walking past, lovers arm in arm, and I'd spit after them like an old crone because they could be happy and I couldn't. Because those girls didn't have to worry if their partners would back out of a deal after they'd got what they wanted, or come back for seconds without so much as a by-your-leave. They didn't have to put up with walls in alleyways for a quick fumble in return for something to eat.  
  
When my powers first started growing in I thought I really *had* lost it. I mean, who can blow up a garbage can with their fingertips?   
  
That was how I got my first taste of being a mutant. I woke up one morning, joints a bit sore and with a head full of fug. One of the nights I was sleeping alone, and I'd stashed myself behind a 24hour Pizzeria, squashed up next to the pipes to keep warm. I stretched, and a few pafs of coloured light blew up a trashcan. Lucky for me it was plastic, so there was no shrapnel to worry about, but I had no idea what was going on. Absolutely fuck-all clue.   
  
I guess that was why I just sat there, staring at my hands and wondering if it'd happened, and I'd gone round the bend at last. The workers inside never made a sound to disturb me as I turned my hands over and over, wondering if I could do it again, and the next thing I knew I was being hauled into the back of the squad car they'd called.  
  
I didn't spend long in custody. I must've been so out-of-it to let them take me in the first at all. It was only when I arrived at the Police Station that I appreciated what the little trip entailed. Back into the hands of the bigwigs, and then on to China.   
  
I yelled, demanding they put me back as they hustled me inside, until one of the officers said, "Do you really wanna go back out there, kid?"  
  
Did I? Which was worse, a life in or out of the country? America, or China? The streets or... or who knows what? Life was tough, but better the devil you know, right?  
  
I didn't have to worry about it long, though. The same morning I discovered my powers, Cerebro discovered me. Xavier came to meet me at the Station. He'd travelled down to California especially, and I learned later on that Logan was waiting outside.   
  
At first I thought he was some kind of shrink. The way he spoke, the way he acted, the fact he and I were allowed a private conference with no cops about; it all reminded me of the psychiatrist at my old school, and I doubted my own sanity for the second time that day.   
  
Still, the uncertainty made me quiet long enough for him to explain his case. He told me about mutants, about the X-gene and about what was happening to me. He told me I shouldn't be scared, that it was a good thing, and not a curse as some people would have me believe. Needless to say, I was suspicious, and I wanted him to be wrong. I didn't want to be some freak! Being a punk I could deal with, but a real live freak was out of my league.  
  
But then he started talking about his school, the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, and how there was a place for me there if I chose to accept it.   
  
Gifted? Me? The last person to call me gifted had been my old gymnastics coach when I brought home my last gold. I slipped my hand inside my pocket where I always kept it, and whilst he talked I stroked my medal, listening, and wanting to believe him. I *wanted* to, except it all seemed so far-fetched. Street life has made me mistrustful - perhaps more than is good for me - and I took everything he said with a rather large pinch of salt, no matter how nice it sounded.  
  
He never asked me about my parents, or how I came to be locked up in the clink in the first place - for which I was grateful. Maybe he already knew my grubby little secrets, but somehow I think it was more to do with respect. It didn't take much than a look to tell that I had no home, and hadn't had one for a while, and the way I squirmed in my chair may have clued him in to the fact that I didn't want to talk about myself in any great detail. If nothing else, Professor Xavier's a psychic gentleman, and he said I could have time to think it over if I wanted. There was no rush, and it was my decision in the end.  
  
I did. First night ever in the proverbial lock-up. I didn't sleep a wink, but kept thinking about how nice it'd be to have a proper home again, and not have to scrounge in gutters and filch handbags just to live from day-to-day. But then, what price would I have to pay to get it? One thing I've discovered in life is that there's always a price, no matter how sweet a deal looks on the surface. Half my male company had proved that in the months I'd been there.   
  
I guess I don't have to tell you that I took him up on his offer in the end. My belly won out once again.   
  
Xavier took care of everything, like he'd known I was going to say yes from the very beginning. He got me off with a wave and a warning, and no blot to my permanent record. One if the officers who'd brought me in even ruffled my hair and called me a 'cute kid'. I don't think my 'patrons' would've agreed with him on that note. Good at what I did, yes, but cute?  
  
Xavier even got it fixed up for me to stay with a brand new foster family, and in New York no less. I had a new start, a chance to begin again and do things right this time. I was flabbergasted to say the least, and the suspicions in my mind kept growing, wondering what I'd have to do to repay all of this. As Kurt would say, TANSTAAFL.  
  
But it never came. I moved in with the Abrams in their house Westchester, and stayed there for close to four months before it was time to move into the Xavier Institute. They became my family in a surprisingly short amount of time; mostly because, deep down, I was so achingly desperate to have one again, and they were so welcoming and glad to have me stay. They'd lost their own son in a car accident. Paula and Conner, they told me to call them. Not Mom and Dad, because that would've meant they were replacing my real parents, and I was replacing their Tommy. We were different, but not replacements for those gone from the world.  
  
I think I liked them even more for saying that, and even though it took me a while to get used to living in such close quarters with a man who didn't want anything more from me than a father-daughter relationship, they really did become like blood relations. I still call them most days, and Paula and me go shopping whenever she's in town on business, and then onto a café or somewhere to gossip.  
  
Ach, now I sound soppy. Don't let that load of stuff I just said fool you, because I'm not. I can still hold my own in a fight, and I know a thing or two better than most regardless of how cushy my life becomes. You don't forget it easy, as Amara can testify from our scuffle on the first day here. I think I still have the scar on my arm from that little incident.   
  
Which leads me on to the Institute itself. It was painful leaving Paula and Conner so soon, but it helped to know that I'd be coming home during the holidays, and that I could come home at weekends whenever I wanted because they lived so close by. I think that was one of the reasons Xavier engineered for me to be placed with them, although I didn't come up with that theory until later when I knew him better.  
  
Professor Xavier. I have to admit, I had my doubts about him right up until I got to the mansion, and even when I stepped over the threshold on that first day, I was ready to leave again if he proved to be playing me for a fool. I've had too many bad experiences with silver platters to go into something with my mouth wide open.   
  
I was especially dubious when he first introduced us newbies to the idea of being X-Men. Well, the concept of being in a team itself wasn't new, he'd explained all that in the months at the Abrams', but the actual uniforms we'd be wearing - well, they were a different matter entirely. Skintight and slinky, and not exactly the sort of thing to inspire confidence in a person's motives.   
  
Still, he's proved honourable in his own way, never forcing us to do anything except train and go to school, and both of those are for our own good, as the older kids insist on constantly telling us.   
  
There's no gymnastics team here, but the mini-rig in the Danger Room makes up for that in part. Not that many know about that. Most of the time people don't know about how I sneak down there and hot-wire my way in past the security precautions, just so I can feel myself flying through the air again - and not because I just parted company with somebody's fist. Really flying, on my own power, just the rungs and pure chance that I'll catch them between me and a Jubilee-esque pancake on the floor.   
  
Well, almost nobody knows I go down there. Somebody caught me once. And before you ask, no, it wasn't Logan. Or Ororo. Or any of the faculty members, for that matter.  
  
Want to know the truth? It was Rahne.   
  
It happened right back at the beginning. We had to share a room after that unfortunate fracas with Amara trashed mine. I'd only been down to the DR a couple of times at that point, but it was addictive, like a drug after so long being away from beams, bars, vaults et al. I needed to get myself reacquainted with them, and since I knew the adults would never let me have a go on my own - they barely let Kurt in there un-chaperoned, and the rig was *built* for him and Wolverine to let off steam - I did it the only way I could. I always thought I was sure-footed enough to sneak out without her noticing, though. I guess I never figured on her still having most of her wolf senses when she's in human form.   
  
I can still remember going through one of my old routines, the one that had won me my last gold. I was a little rusty, but I thought that if I skipped some of the more intricate exercises I'd be fine. Over the bars, flip, and under again. Twist around, bring your legs up - keep them straight, girl! Champions don't have weak knees! Pike in the middle and... use the momentum to throw clear and spin head-over-heels with a rounded back and shoulders forward. I'd done it so many times I could even recall the inflection in my instructor's voice as I went through the motions.   
  
I didn't reckon on being quite so out of practice as I was, though, and while most of the routine went without a hitch, I came out of the last spin wonky and wound up in a heap on the floor, wondering when I'd gone from airborne to earth-bound without noticing the transition.   
  
The next thing I knew there was someone standing over me, poking my shoulder and asking if I was OK. I didn't know anybody very well at that point, so I acted out of the instinct that had gotten me out of a few jams on the street, and tried to slug whoever it was.  
  
Not exactly the best way to greet someone who's gone out of their way to make you feel welcome, huh? I didn't actually catch her, but I was so embarrassed afterwards, both for trying to pop her one on the nose and for getting caught. I couldn't even think what to say, and I yawped like an idiot trying to slot together an apology for nearly bashing her brains out.  
  
But strangely enough, Rahne was pretty much fine about the whole scenario, and even tried to take care of me when I got up after my fall, until I told her to leave off. She'd followed me down to the DR when I left our room. I thought she was going to turn me in - any of the other kids would've - but she didn't. Do you know what she did instead? She actually gave me a compliment about my moves, and asked if I could teach her a few. She never said anything about me breaking in, or using the equipment without permission, or trying to cause her bodily injury. If anything, she was even friendlier than before.  
  
I'll tell you now, my jaw still hurts from where it hit the floor. I thought she was nuts!  
  
People say it's inevitable that Rahne and I became friends. I suppose I can see their point to an extent. We were pretty much thrown together on the first day, since I had no room to stay in and she was one of the few females left bar Ororo who wasn't already sharing one. But if anybody tells you that, then they're wrong. After all that happened in the past, I don't make friends easy. Trust has to be earned, you know? And I make sure that they earn it, too. Big time.  
  
Still, Rahne was the exception. She was just so... so *eager*. Right from the word go when I met her on the steps of the mansion, she was like an over-excited puppy, nice to everyone whether they'd been nice back or not, and willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt without knowing a thing about them or how they felt about her administrations. Some folk might call her naïve, but I prefer the word warm. It never even entered her head not to be, and that's what makes people like her.  
  
I'd never met anyone like her before. My old 'friends' back in California were all spoiled mall-rats, and the only time they ever wanted anything to do with me was when I had money or they were mooning over some new guy in their classes and needed a disposed ear to pour their gushing into. Rahne's not like that. She'll accept you for who you are an not ask any questions you're unwilling to answer so long as you agree to be her friend. And you can't help wanting to agree to her terms, too. Next to Kurt, I'd wager she's one of the most loved members of the Institute - and I'm not saying that because I'm biased, either. Ask anybody; Roberto, Kitty or Sam would agree with me in a heartbeat.  
  
Sam. Truth be told, I met Sam before I met Rahne, so maybe I should've told you about him first instead of her. We rode in the X-van from the airport to the mansion that first day, squidged in next to Amara, Tabby, and more often than not, several Jamies. There wasn't much opportunity to say much, but from the first he struck me as one of those plodding, sensible types. Sam's this... well, he's a big country yuppie, really; a real farmboy. But he's a lovable yuppie all the same, and he has a heart as big as anything, with a sense of humour to match.   
  
Yes, I know, I'm contradicting myself there, but to look at the guy you wouldn't know that he's capable of anything beyond a clumsy guffaw. It's not immediately obvious that he's quite shrewd really, no matter how much he puts himself down. Practical, yeah. Down to earth, yep. But that doesn't mean he sacrificed his sense of humour to boot. If Rahne's an excitable pup, then Sam's the lollopy St. Bernard who never really grew up.  
  
It wasn't instantly apparent that we three would become friends. I didn't much like Sam at first - I didn't like any of the boys or men at the Institute. Like I said, I have a hard time trusting people since my days as a street punk, and men especially. Too many bad memories. Sometimes I still wake up, drenched in cold sweat from a nightmare that I'm back there, selling my 'company' for food and a bed.   
  
It was Rahne who convinced me to give him a chance, and I was glad for the effort after a while. Sam's a good guy, who wouldn't hurt a fly even if it was a psycho insect armed with a machete, and once I saw that instead of the spectres I'd created for all the men there, it was easy to like him. For his part he was willing to accept me, too. By his own admission, Sam's never had many friends because of where he lives. He probably thought my original frostiness was normal.  
  
We had a lot of good times, our little trio, whether just hanging out and having fun, or stressing over homework and training. Whenever one of us was in trouble, the other two would leap to the defensive, and we became like a miniature pack, to use Rahne's words, even though the other kids made fun of us when we went around together. The odd couple plus one, Ray said. Little, large, and me in the middle.  
  
I never realised the irony in that statement until that morning.  
  
But I'm getting ahead of myself again. OK, Jubes, take a step back now. Rewind to before that training session.  
  
Crap, if only the world was that simple. Press a switch and everything goes back to the way it was, nothing broken or stepped on. All fine and dandy again, like somebody waved a magic wand and sprinkled fairy dust about to make things nice and sparkly.  
  
Mutant powers are supposed to be a gift, aren't they? And the word 'gift' insinuates usefulness. So why aren't mine useful like that? Why can't I go back, turn the clock to when things were good, before I gave away that non-beating thing lying broken and trampled in the dust right now?  
  
I don't exactly know when it happened. Well, I do, but I don't think I realised to begin with, and when I did I was enjoying the feelings too much to get rid of them again. They started up right back at the start. Perhaps not on the first day, but close enough, and kept growing ever since.   
  
After what happened in California, I never thought I could feel for anyone again. I mean, not *that* way, at least. Especially not for a boy or a man. When I was at my lowest ebb, it was a man who threw me a shovel, and men who made sure I just kept digging until I thought I'd never get out of that hole - both metaphorical and actual. For a while I thought I hated all men, but even when that out-and-out revulsion faded I kept some of the bad feeling towards them. The mental scars were too deep, too raw . Still are in a way, even though I've been here in Bayville for so long. I could never, never learn to love one, of that much I was certain.  
  
I read a book once - don't laugh! Contrary to popular opinion, I'm not completely ignorant, just not as academically talented as say Kitty, or Jean - or even Sam, though he'll try to tell you he's stupid. It's like he's allergic to compliments or something! Dumbass farmboy.  
  
Anyway, I read this book, right. Not because I was told to by a teacher, but because I wanted to. Yes, I know, I blame temporary insanity for actually volunteering myself to read a novel instead of going outside, or trying for another go on the rig. 'The Color Purple', it was called, by some lady called Alice Walker. You might've heard of it. It's very famous, from what I can gather. This character, Celie, was so badly treated by men in the past that she found she just couldn't bring herself to love them anymore. At all. I'm not that bad anymore, but still... It all started when she was nigh on fourteen years old. Same as me. She was cutting her Pa's hair when he suddenly just upped and turned around and - well, I'll leave you to fill in the blanks on that one.   
  
I kept spotting similarities between Celie and me, though. Cutting hair's like a motif for both of us. Surprised I even know what that word means? I'll bet you are. Her Pa got her to cut his hair so that he could get her alone for himself, and I had to cut mine because other men wanted me alone for themselves. Maybe that's why I like it long, now, because it makes me look different. It reminds me that I don't have to worry about things like that anymore. Celie fell out of love with men because of how they'd treated her, and so did I. In some ways, I'm just like Celie, and the feelings she had for Shug Avery made me feel better about the odd ones that'd started to stir inside me. It made me think that I'm not the sick little freak I thought I was. That it's normal to feel that way.  
  
If you've read the book, then you might already see what I'm getting at now. If you haven't... well, I'll tell you my other guilty little secret. I keep it buried away where not even Xavier can find it, but not next to the others. I don't want this one sullied by them.   
  
Ready? I fell in love with Rahne Sinclair.  
  
There, I said it. Do you think any less of me now? Do you think I'm sick? Am I less of a person for admitting that? Well, I don't care. It feels better to just say it, let it out for air instead of holding it close until it's almost choked. Or else choking me.  
  
I've never told her. I've never told anyone. Not until now, at least. Now that it's too late. But I suppose it was always too late. You see, I know for a fact that Rahne never felt the same way about me. She never saw me as anything more than a friend. Her best friend, true, and sometimes her confidant, but always just a friend. Or maybe a sister, except that makes my feelings sound even *worse*.   
  
Which is why that morning was all the more painful for me.  
  
It all started out normal enough. I got up, grumbling as per usual, and left my bedroom. I have my own now that it's been repaired, although the dresser's still missing the bottom drawer. I'm still not entirely sure where that went, actually. Maybe Amara incinerated it. That would explain the smell of burning wood that always hangs around the place, no matter how long I keep the windows open.  
  
Sorry, getting off topic there. I'm babbling now that we're into more... delicate territory. Well, can you blame me? I've never told a soul the things I'm telling you right now. I think I have a right to meander about with what I'm telling you.  
  
So anyway, I kicked a path through the junk on my floor, pried the door open and headed to the DR.   
  
I'm not exactly a huge fan of early morning training sessions, *especially* if they're with Logan - the guy's nice enough, and he's even been quite pleasant to me before, if you can believe that, but he's a sadist when he puts on his uniform - so I tend to drag my feet in getting there, with the result that I was one of the last in alongside Amara.. Princess Motor-Mouth decided bumblefuck in the a.m. was a good time to start sniping at me, too, so when I arrived I wasn't in the best of moods. As Tabby might've said, I was in need of some serious downtime.  
  
I think Logan hates early morning training as much as we do, because he always seems to pick tougher sims than if we train after school or with the older kids. That morning it was the fabled 'Mountain Gauntlet', as Kitty once called it. I never quiet understood what she mean until I saw the holograms come into play. Microsoft would kill for some of the Institute's technology, I swear. The X-Box has nothing on us.  
  
Logan picked on Bobby to do the test-run, which I can't say I'm surprised about. Bobby's always goofing off in training sessions, showing off with his powers and trying to make the rest of us look bad. Leastways, that's how it seems to me. Sometimes he needs to be taken down a peg or two, and that morning Logan obliged.  
  
And how.   
  
Poor old Bobby. He didn't know what he was getting himself into. The look on his face was priceless when he contemplated turning back and saw Logan glaring at him to keep going.  
  
Except that I wasn't really looking at the screen where he battled against the elements. I was watching something else, with a very different storm inside of me.  
  
Rahne caught me watching her. Her wolf-senses must've picked up on my gaze, and she shot me a curious look. I shuffled over, and she bobbed her head at the screen, making her pigtails bounce.   
  
"Bet you wish you were out there with him," she whispered.  
  
I blinked at her, not understanding. She smelled strongly of coffee and cinnamon, and I knew she must've stopped by at the kitchen beforehand. Ororo had made a batch of muffins the day before, and she always adds in extra cinnamon. The tuft of blue fur hovering on her shoulder indicated that Kurt had been there too, until she noticed and brushed it off.  
  
"Why would I want to be out in that mess sooner than I have to be?" I asked her, frowning. There were other words I wanted to tack on the end - 'when I can be here with you' amongst them. But I didn't. I've long since come to terms with my mouth saying one thing and my brain ending the sentence where nobody can hear it. That's why I'm such a good student when it comes to learning defences against telepaths. I can't afford for anybody to look inside my head and see the things stewing around in there.  
  
Rahne gave me a pointed look and waggled her eyebrows. "So you could warm him up."  
  
I must've looked shocked, because her smile faded a little and she looked puzzled. It's no secret that Bobby's been... well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that he's been chasing me for a while, but I've known about how he feels for a long time. I like him... but not that way. Bobby knows how to lighten up, to have *fun* with his powers, and he's easy to talk to once you get past the egotistical 'Iceman', but there are too many things inside my head for me to think of him as anything else than a friend. I thought I'd been making progress with letting him know that without letting any of my dirty little secrets from California get out, but apparently I was wrong if people were still under the impression that I was stringing him along. God, an ice ballerina and a dance at an illicit party and you're instantly an item!  
  
'I'd rather it was you and me out there', I almost said. Almost. But not quite. I've given the phrase 'tight-lipped' a new meaning. Besides which, we were distracted right then, so I was saved from myself and my grotesquely flapping mouth.  
  
The sim was a lot more difficult than any we'd done before. I think it was the lack of powers that just topped off the icing on the cake. It started out simple enough, just protecting Roberto-plus-eggs as we crested the slope and hoping to luck that we wouldn't fall over our own feet. I stood next to Rahne, but somehow Bobby managed to squeeze in between us, and spent a lot of time before the rain started trying to engage me in a conversation I was too tired and too cranky to have.  
  
There was some chit-chat from up ahead, and I found myself mildly surprised that Bobby wasn't leading us like he usually did. Normally you can't keep him on a leash at all if there's a chance of breaking out of the box and showing the world why he calls himself the 'King of Cool', but today he just stuck by our side like he'd had an unfortunate accident with industrial strength superglue. I ignored him, making like I was concentrating on the sim, which sent him into a sulk.  
  
Then the storm started for real.   
  
I've been caught out in the open in bad weather before, don't get me wrong. It's like some unwritten rule that Californians don't own umbrellas, and if they do then they never remember to use them. But before it was always just a downpour that made you soggy and then moved on. Even when I used to sit in doorways, nursing my leaden toes while water ran down the back of my coat, it'd always just been rain, with perhaps a little thunder and lightning thrown in for good measure.   
  
This was the big cheese. A proper mountain storm, with no mercy spared just because we were a bunch of semi-trained mutant kids in a giant metal room. I knew Logan must've had a hand in programming this sim, because there was no way the Professor or Forge would be as sadistic on their own. Especially when the earthquakes started up, and *especially* when we lost Amara down one of many spontaneously opening potholes.   
  
It was a little odd when Sam took charge and organised a human chain to get her out again. Sam's never struck me as the leader-type, but his plan was a good one, and I got the feeling that Bobby was glaring at him like some sort of rival or something. Newsflash Bobby, you never got appointed leader by anybody. If you can't come up with a decent plan to rescue a teammate, then tough luck. You lose.   
  
Not that I was looking at those two. I was too busy watching Rahne as she descended headfirst into the pothole and dragged Miss Bitch out of there. It was all I could do not to grab her ankles and pull her back myself. Certainly, I didn't trust Ray to do the job without dropping and injuring her, so it came as even more of a surprise when everything went off without a hitch and both Rahne and Amara crawled out with only a few scratches and a sore behind to show for it. For second I even considered going over and paying Ray a compliment for not screwing up. That would've had him bouncing back.  
  
That is, until I saw Rahne pat Sam's shoulder and compliment *him* first.  
  
Something stirred in the pits of my stomach, something indefinable, and I looked daggers despite myself.  
  
It hadn't escaped my attention that Sam likes Rahne. It hadn't escaped anybody's, actually. Except maybe hers. I saw the way he went gooey-eyed whenever she walked in the room, and I saw the way his gaze followed her wherever she went. I saw the way he tried to cover up his feelings and only half-succeeded, and I saw the way it hurt him to talk to her and not let her know. I saw, and I recognised it, because I was doing exactly the same myself, only with better results. I've had a lot more practise with keeping my secrets secret than our Mr. Guthrie, so I didn't have to put up with the ridicule he did from our peers. Or the inevitable disgusted looks, in my case.   
  
I watched as she patted his shoulder and said something that I couldn't quite hear over the pounding raindrops. My eyes slitted of their own accord, and I had to remind myself that other people could see me. I turned away before they were finished; hoping people would mistake my blush for being out in the cold.  
  
I love Rahne dearly, but sometimes she's... well; let's just say she's not the most perceptive person in the world. I think Sam had reached the same conclusion as me with regards to his feelings; that they weren't, and would never be reciprocated beyond anything more than friendship. That was why he hid them, beat them down and told them to stay there so that he could get on with his life and be content with unrequited affection instead of blurting everything out and risking her running a mile in the other direction.  
  
Or was I thinking about me and my feelings when I thought that?  
  
Him? Me? It's rather confusing now.  
  
Perhaps I was just coming to the same conclusion for both of us because it made me feel better to think that way. To think that he had about as much chance as I did, and we'd have to both be happy with our lot as it was.  
  
Even so, when we moved off I couldn't help glowering at the back of his head. To the point where Bobby gave me a strange look and I had to overcompensate by saying that I couldn't see properly through the rain. That was all the opportunity he needed, and before I knew what was going on Bobby had swept me up into a conversation about I-can't-remember-what, and I didn't get the chance to so much as look at either Sam or Rahne unless we were navigating our way over a boulder and I was passing the eggs across. I tried whistling once to make him leave me alone. Word of advice; whistling in the rain is the easy way to inhale water and choke, so don't try it.   
  
I was as glad as anyone when we finally got in sight of that damn red flag. I yelled and capered about, and showed off with a cartwheel. Man, did I want to get out of there. Back to my room to dry out and wring the water from my hair, and above all, to get *warm* again. Rahne seemed worried about me being too close to the edge, though, and told me to come back where it was safer. My insides glowed that she was anxious about me, even though I knew it wasn't for the same reason I worried about her.   
  
Still, I did as she said. Or at least, I did up until the next tremor decided to hit.  
  
That, as they say, was a doozy. None of us were ready for it either, which was dumb because we've had enough training sessions with Logan to know that he always saves the worst for last. It was like the entire 'mountain' was shaking apart beneath our feet, and the hologram showed up pebbles and rocks flying down the cliff just to make us feel better.  
  
Several of our team fell over, since we were spread out with all the celebrating and they had nobody to grab onto. Sam went down and got tangled up with Ray - who wasn't happy about the elbows in his face, I can tell you - and I noticed Jamie clinging onto a rock nearby, trying not to multiply because it would've meant going through this ordeal all over again to use his powers. Obviously he didn't give much credit to Wolvie for understanding that it'd been an accident.  
  
"The eggs! Quick, somebody; catch them!"  
  
Sam's shout made me snap my head up, and I was just in time to see Roberto flinging the plastic cube into the air in the hope someone would grab them while he made acquaintances with the ground. Nobody was close enough, though, and it was clear they were going to fall and smash into a big eggy mess.  
  
I acted without thinking. My feet just seemed to move on their own, and before I truly knew what was going on I'd slipped into an old vault move, running pell-mell with my body low to the ground and knees bent, straighten legs and - hup! The extra propulsion took me up and I caught the eggs before they even had chance to drop from their apex, rounding off with a tumble-turn that even my perfectionist old coach would've been hard-pushed to find fault with.  
  
I landed in a squat, hugging the box to my chest, and as I stood up again I noticed that Sam's eyes were on me and his mouth was hanging open like a regular flytrap. He'd never seen me on the rig before, so that little display must've come as a surprise.   
  
I suddenly felt very smug, and kind of pleased with myself. See, Guthrie? There are things I can do that you can't. I have talents too. Talents you don't have with that gawky body of yours. Talents you'll never have.  
  
I was shocked at myself. I don't know why I thought it. Even though I didn't say it out loud, it was still cruel. I mean, Sam's my best friend, and he's always been there for me when I'm in a jam and needed help. Like when we stole the X-Jet, he was there. And when we had to serve out our punishment detailing the thing, he made me laugh even though we were up to our elbows in soapsuds and grime. I know that his height bothers him a lot. He views me as a good enough friend to confide that insecurity, and normally it doesn't bother me. Typically I'll comfort him and tell him that he'll grow into it, and then he'll make those who taunted him sorry. After all, he was already beginning to fill out a little, what with all the training they make us do here. More muscular, less klutz-like.  
  
I suppose I was trying to compete with him.   
  
Yeah, it really was that simple. I was jealous. Sam was my friend, but in a weirdo, twisted kind of way, he was also my rival. Even though neither of us could ever win the prize, we were both after the same thing, and I wanted to prove that I was better than he was. That I was... I don't know. Worthier? Is that the right word?  
  
I'm not making much sense, am I? Let me put it this way. Sam's my best friend, but he'd fallen for the same girl I had. That also made him, in short, my worst enemy. He didn't know any of this, of course, but I did, and it was enough. It was enough to make me love him like a brother and hate him so utterly that I could picture wrapping my hands about his neck. I needed his friendship to help stave off the ghosts from my past, to teach me to trust again, but I begrudged every second he spent around her and me.  
  
He didn't know any of what passed through my mind in that brief second. He simply got up and told me to give him the eggs. Just like that, like it was his right to carry them over the finishing line. And suddenly, in the aftermath of my own shock at myself, I resented him all the more. I wanted him to look bad; to be made a fool of.  
  
So I refused and played with him, taking advantage of his height and clumsiness to make him stumble and lurch around; darting past and making him trip to go sprawling with his nose buried in the mud. Whether the mountaintop was real or not, the mud certainly was. Greater effect, I thought as I danced around him, taunting him. I said things then that I knew would hurt him, and only a little bit of me felt badly for saying them.  
  
"Can't catch me, Sam. I'm too quick for you without powers, and you know it. Whoops, down we go. My, my, so clumsy. Aw, did snookums hurt his nosie-wosie? Best to give it another mudpack to make it feel better. Ha! You look ridiculous."  
  
The others gathered around us like spectators at a boxing match, and Ray and Amara started making out it was some kind of male versus female superiority thing. It wasn't. It was me versus Sam. Me versus Sam and myself. And maybe, in part, it was just me versus me. The darker side of me. The side that survived in California by never making friends and only taking people for what she could get. New versus old. Jubes versus Jubilee. Mutant girl versus street punk.  
  
I laughed. That strange gurgling laughter you give when you know you're doing something wrong, but you're too far-gone to care anymore. I dressed it up as a playful giggle, because even then I remembered that I'd have to face him after this. Sam would still be my friend later, and I'd have to live with the memory of wanting him humiliated in front of the first real friends he ever made. In front of his teammates. In front of the girl he fell in love with - that I fell in love with. I laughed, and I wanted to cry because of what I was doing. It was wrong, and a horrible thing to do; especially to someone who's held you close, whispered into your hair and offered you half his cookie when you sniffle into a tissue at the kitchen table, awoken once again from some nightmare so terrible that the only way to escape it is through company. He was my partner in crime, my pillar of strength, but in that moment I just wanted to see him ground into the dust like a common yokel.   
  
I knew she was watching us. She didn't say a word, but I could feel her eyes, wondering what was making us do this. Wondering why Sam was so intent on taking the box from me, and I was so intent on making him look like an idiot. I felt shameful, and I didn't want to look into her eyes and see the question I knew would be written there because there was no way I could answer it. No way either of us could.  
  
She wanted to know why?  
  
Then, all of a sudden, it ended. There were cries, a low rumble, and the ground was moving again. I heard Roberto shout, saw him fall along with the others as I flew through the air, not yet prey to the gravity that was affecting them all.  
  
"Incoming!" he yelled, and fell over backwards.  
  
I landed askew, my balance torn from me as I hopped about on one foot. The box in my hands squeaked loudly, and I realised in horror that it was coming loose. I scrabbled, trying to keep hold, but I stumbled and started to teeter with it only half in my grasp.  
  
"Shit! The eggs!" Ray yelped from somewhere.  
  
I cast about for someone to throw them to. Maybe I could get out of this by doing the same as Roberto had. But they were all falling, or already fallen. Amara crumpled to her hands and knees, and Bobby stumbled to the ground next to her. Only Sam remained - but no! He was over. The box was going, I couldn't hold it - wait!   
  
I saw her standing there, knees slightly bowed but mercifully upright. Rahne would get me out of this mess. Rahne would help me.   
  
"Rahne! Catch!" I shouted, and threw the box before my body finally gave up and let gravity claim it like everybody else.  
  
I knew from the moment it left my fingers that I was wrong. She wasn't looking, and by the time she raised her head it was too late and she was forced to catch it or else have it hurt her when it slammed against her ribs. Her stance was wrong, my old gymnastics training told me. So very wrong. She had little more balance than I did, and I scrambled to leap up so that she could toss the box back.   
  
Her eyes went wide as she reeled backwards, rain in her face and hands clawing not to let the eggs fall. My mouth was just shaping the words 'throw them back' when her foot shifted sideways, robbing the last of her equilibrium. And then she was gone.  
  
My throat contorted, and words wouldn't come out.  
  
"RAHNE!" I heard Sam yell, the shout ripping from his throat like it hurt to keep it in. He ran forwards and stupidly hurled himself flat to look over, to stare after her.  
  
My heart beat faster in my chest, pulsing in my temples as I watched him for a second, too stunned to know what to do. Then my legs started to move, feet slapping the wet rocks and skidding to a halt next to him, just as reckless, just as stupid. The last remnants of the quake juddered under us, but we didn't care. He spared me a sideways glance, but that was all.  
  
I scanned the cliff, looking for the crash mat she had to have landed on. There'd been a crash mat for Bobby, so surely there would be one for Rahne, right? Right? So where was it? I couldn't see it!  
  
I felt sick. Sam's expression was heartbroken, like he thought she'd died or something. I wanted to hit him, to slap him around his face tell him that it was all an illusion. He had to be strong, because if he crumbled then where would that leave me? Selfish, I know, but I wasn't thinking clearly.  
  
And then I saw her. My mouth worked fine this time, and I practically grabbed Sam's head and pointed it to where the sad little figure crouched below us.   
  
"Look! There!"  
  
He looked, and his face split into a smile as relief washed over us both. We were still grinning like idiots as the other guys shambled up and joined us.  
  
I snapped around as Sam called down to her, breaking the moment. "Rahne! Rahne, you OK?"  
  
She didn't answer. He tried again   
  
"Rahne!"  
  
Not to be outdone, I shouted too. "Yo, Rahne!"   
  
Still nothing. Sam nibbled his lip, looking troubled.  
  
"So what now?" asked Roberto, hands on his hips.  
  
They all turned to look as Bobby said proudly, "Human chain again," as if it had been his idea in the first place. I might have rolled my eyes, but I was too fixated on the small redheaded figure below me, plastic box shining in her hands. She'd managed to keep hold of it even when she was falling, I thought, and if it were possible my notions of her rose another notch.  
  
The others started squabbling, so loudly that I had to break away my gaze and look at them. Bobby was standing huffily to one side; arms folded, and appeared to be facing off against Amara about what to do. She was glaring a fire brighter than the one she usually called up into her hands.  
  
"It was good enough when Cannonball suggested it," he said grumpily, ice in his voice.  
  
"It takes so *long*," she replied, tone as hard and cutting as diamonds, "And I have Chemistry first period that I'm going to fail unless I start getting better grades soon. Which, if you hadn't noticed, involves actually attending classes. Can't she just pass the eggs up? That way a few of us could go on to the finishing line and get this thing over with while the rest work on getting her back up here."  
  
I glared at her, and opened my mouth to snap at her, but Sam cut me off.  
  
"I'll go down," he said, and got to his knees.   
  
Him save her? Well, it wasn't really a saving situation, but memories of me trying to humiliate him coupled with a heroic rescue attempt on his part weren't going to do anything to endear me to Rahne - nor to anybody else, for that matter. I folded my arms at him, making up a better excuse than my real, self-interested motive in a heartbeat.  
  
"What? No way! If you fall as well Logan'll tear strips off us for losing teammates."  
  
But Princess Bitch stuck her face in mine, giving me a lecture about how the eggs were meant to be representative of an injured person. I wanted to tell her that they were just freakin' eggs! That our teammate was much more important that a bunch of things that came out of a chicken's backside! She lectured me like I was nothing more than a kid, and I felt my hands clenching into fist by my sides. How dare she talk to me like that? How dare she!  
  
Something moved to my right, a splash of black and blonde in my peripheral vision. While Amara was talking, Sam had started to swing himself around and lower him legs over the lip of the cliff. Sneaky, I thought, and snatched at his arm. He looked at me, a strange light in his eyes.  
  
"Hey, let go. That ledge is wide enough to take Rahne and me both, easily. I'll pass up the eggs and then we'll come back. She can stand on my shoulders. There's no rock around here to use as an anchor for a human chain like we did before, so it wouldn't be safe to try it again. And besides, it'll be quicker this way."  
  
"If you're going down, then I'm going," I told him, and tried to pull him back. If anybody was going to rescue Rahne, it was going to be me.  
  
"Now who's bein' ridiculous? There's not enough room for three down there, even if you *are* smaller than me. It makes more sense for me to go down. I'm taller for shoulder-standin'." he said, pulling me back easily and extracting his arm from my fingers. His tone was firm, and his words made me want to cry for being so nice about earlier when I'd been so repulsive. I bit my lip, because I suddenly felt like bawling, and I wouldn't allow myself to be so weak. Not in front of him.   
  
"But if you fall..." I started to say, but I couldn't finish. If you fall, what will I do? This isn't real, but what will I do if you were willing to do that for her? How can I compete with that?   
  
He touched my shoulder, and I wanted to hit him. I wanted to wipe that horrible, sympathetic look off his face with my fist, to show him some of the moves I learned on the street up close and personal. I didn't want him to be gracious; I wanted him to be like me, with anger boiling up inside.   
  
"Then there'll be a crash mat to catch me. Don't worry, Jubes; I got it covered. Just be ready to hold the eggs when I send 'em up so they don't smash, OK? Otherwise we'll be negatin' the whole exercise."  
  
I hated him. I hated him for being kind and good and nice while I was so ghastly. I hated him for having such a forgiving nature. I hated him for caring. I just plain hated him, but at the same time I couldn't be angry with him anymore. What he said made sense, however much I didn't want to admit it. So I pulled back and let him go down to her even though it tore me up inside to do it, and I watched him every step of the way.  
  
When he reached the bottom the others cheered. Team solidarity, so I gave a watery cheer myself, even though my heart wasn't in it. I couldn't let them know anything was up, and Bobby kept looking at me funny as it was. No point in signposting the matter after I'd spent so long keeping it hidden.  
  
"Yo, Farmboy!" Bobby shouted down. "Are the eggs OK?"  
  
For a second I was sidetracked from watching Sam's progress, and I whipped up to look at Bobby, a little bit of defensiveness for my friend resurfacing when he used that nickname.  
  
"Hey, leave him alone. He's doing the best he can. I'd like to see you any better, Drake."  
  
Bobby stared at me, and then his face slammed shut. He looked over the edge again. "Hey, Cannonball, get the lead out!"  
  
Sam looked up at us, shielding his eyes from the falling rain. "They're OK. If I hold 'em up, can someone grab 'em? I don't like my chances for trying to climb back with these babies. Luck only takes us so far, y'know."  
  
We all huddled back. Bobby sulked and didn't say anything beyond the odd grunt or two, so, oddly enough; it was Ray who took charge. Seems like everybody wanted in on the whole leadership schtick that morning. Eventually, after a little bickering we managed to work out how we were going to do this, and Amara harrumphed to herself as we lowered her down to grab the eggs and hoist them back up.   
  
"Honestly, I'm a Princess, not a piece of meat. Hold *on* up there - this is ridiculous. If you drop me, I'll personally set all your beds alight!"  
  
"Have you been putting on weight, menina bonita?" Roberto asked, grinning.   
  
Bobby piped up, grating on my last nerve. "Somebody feels like a cow!"  
  
"Shut up, Bobby," I snapped, and he did. He looked a little hurt, but I was freezing, wet and irritable, and in no mood for him trying to be clever, so I ignored it and just kept a hold of Roberto.   
  
After we hauled her sorry ass back up, Ray leaned over again and called down, "Come on, Sam, Rahne, let's go. Not that I like school, but if I get another tardy slip it's detention for sure."  
  
Sam didn't answer for a second, and then his voice drifted up. "Go on ahead, we'll catch up to ya. It'll take us a few minutes to navigate this cliff, and we'll just hold y'all back in the meantime."  
  
Amara brushed past me, fluffing the soggy mess that was her hair and tugging on Ray's arm. "Finally, someone talking sense. Let's *go*."  
  
"It's fine, go and finish. Get this dang rain turned off. We'll follow."  
  
"Come on, Berzerker. He said it's fine, so let's leave already."  
  
Ray seemed uncertain, and looked at each of us in turn for guidance. When his eyes rested on me I held his gaze, saying nothing but willing him to understand. Don't leave them behind. I don't care if we fail this stupid sim and have to repeat it a hundred times over, but *don't* leave them behind. Please.  
  
He blinked, and for a second I dared to hope he'd got it. But then he shook his head, sighed, and shouted, "OK, we'll finish up. But remember, if Logan yells, you told us to leave you, OK?"  
  
"OK." I could imagine the look on Sam's face. He was probably saluting, or waving or something.   
  
Ray moved away, and I scrabbled to look. Sam's expression was hidden by the rain and shadows, and I squinted to see whether he was smiling or not until Amara appeared at my elbow.  
  
"Are you coming or what? Because I'm not covering for you if Logan yells - and he will. They have a reason for staying behind. You don't. "  
  
She made it sound like a question, but the fact that she was physically dragging me from the scene made it perfectly plain that it wasn't. Playing the royal as always, she wasn't even giving me a choice, and I was forced to trawl amongst the others, protecting those dumb eggs while wondering how my two best friends were doing. Rahne still hadn't said a word, and... I don't know, but something in Sam's tone bothered me. He sounded.... anxious. Worried about something. That slight inflection he does when he's nervous about a test, or when his folks in Kentucky haven't called on time and he's imagining all sorts of worst-case scenarios until the phone rings. Not many other people would've noticed, but I know him well enough to spot little nuances like that in his behaviour.   
  
We descended the last slope, always on the look out in case Logan had placed any more pleasant 'surprises' for us in the last stretch. That'd be just his style, but oddly, we found nothing more than the regular amount of potholes and stormy conditions. The rain seemed to fall a bit harder, but there were no more earthquakes. Things didn't get much hairier than when we nearly lost Jamie down an extra big hole that opened up in the trail. I grabbed him before he could fall, and he clung to me like a baby, then blushed and jumped away.  
  
"Uh, sorry about that. I'll be more careful. Uh, thanks Jubilee."  
  
I waved away his gratitude and ruffled his hair, since I couldn't get any more saturated. "No biggie. We're a team, remember? Teammates help each other out, and don't leave each other behind."  
  
"Was that directed at me?" Ray stopped up ahead and shot a glance over his shoulder. With Sam gone he was our sole scout, and the rest of us bar Jamie and me huddled together as if for warmth. Amara had kept the eggs, and though the look on Roberto's face said that he would've liked to carry them again, he knew enough after the demonstration between Sam and I not to try taking them by force.   
  
I looked up. I hadn't actually meant it as a comment to Ray, but thinking back I guess it was easy to take it that way. It was obvious he wasn't happy with the situation anyway, and with Ray, that means he's ready to lash out at people to relieve his own frustrations. I was just the nearest available target to present itself.   
  
May as well go with it, I thought, a few frustrations of my own to work off.   
  
"Might've been."  
  
"Look, they said they wanted to be left behind. They did it for the good of the team."  
  
"The good of the team? What good is it to the team to lose two members?"   
  
Ray turned around. "They're not dead or anything, Jubes. It's not like I abandoned them in their hour of need. Sam told us to go because he knew it'd be for the best. He knew we need to finish this course as quickly as possible, and waiting for them would hold us up."  
  
I folded my arms, conscious of Jamie slipping behind me back towards the others. "I'll bet Cyclops never would've left anybody. *He* knows how to be a responsible leader."   
  
OK, I'll admit it was a low blow, since most of the guys in our little team idolize the power and respect Scott gets when he puts on his uniform and becomes team leader. Ray's no exception, and he clenched his fists, glaring at me.  
  
"Look, I'm *doing* the best I can, alright? I can't help it if I'm not Cyclops. I can't help it if I don't have a stick up my ass the same as him. Beside, it's *just* a training sim. It's not like I'd leave people behind if this were a real mission. I'm not that heartless."  
  
I fixed him with a penetrating stare, the kind that'd made sure I held my own back in California. "I don't know. Would you?"  
  
A few wafts of green electricity started to fizzle around his knuckles, and I arched an eyebrow at them. Roberto laid a hand on Ray's shoulder and shook his head.  
  
"No, man, it's not worth throwing the entire sim over one argument. Sam and Rahne stayed behind so that wouldn't happen, remember?"  
  
"Who said we were arguing?" Ray demanded through gritted teeth, his eyes never leaving me. "We arguing, Jubilee?"  
  
"Nope. No arguments here. Just a few questions and a bit of healthy debate," I replied. "And stop talking about those two like they sacrificed themselves. You're being too melodramatic."  
  
"*He's* being melodramatic?" Ray sounded astonished, and the energy around his hands fizzled away. "He wasn't the one insinuating we dumped our teammates for our own ends."  
  
"Didn't we?" I folded my arms. "Insinuating. Looks like your vocabulary's improving beyond cusses. Very good. It only took you, what, a year?" My tone was patronizing, but it was meant to be, and Ray practically growled as he shook off Roberto's peace-making hand.   
  
"That's it. I've had it. You think you can do better, Jubilee, then you go right ahead. Me? I'm finishing this fu - this damn sim before it finishes me." He pulled up his collar and stalked off, kicking a few stones out of the way as he went.   
  
"Fine," I shouted after him, and then looked at the others. "What?"  
  
They all exchanged pointed glances, and then looked at the floor. Jamie almost cowered behind Amara and a scowling Bobby, and Roberto scuffed his feet before acting as their spokesperson. They all looked a little... well; to tell you the truth they looked scared.  
  
Scared? Of me? Or scared of Ray?  
  
"I think this is what's called a crisis. Ray has a point, Jubes. Sam and Rahne *asked* to be left behind after they were given the choice. There's no point in ragging on him for it. He did what he thought was best under the circumstances. But then again, you also make a valid point. Cyke wouldn't have left them behind, no matter what. But that's the kinda guy he is, when it comes down to it. That's part of his personality, not a reflection on his leadership skills. The gung-ho hero type, I mean - which, I think you'll have to agree, isn't a description that really fits any of us wannabes. Uh," he stuttered, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "What I mean is, uh..."  
  
"What he's trying to say is that both of you are right, and both of you are wrong," Amara put in, succinct as ever. "What it comes down to is that we don't know which one of you to follow, since... well..."  
  
"You can say it," Ray said from up ahead. He'd stopped, and was watching us with an appraising look in his eye. "Neither of us is really leader, so we don't have any actual authority to order you guys around. So, instead of making this a dictatorship, how about we make it a democracy instead?"  
  
I narrowed my eyes at him. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"We'll vote on it. Since you're so stuck on Sam and Rahne's predicament, you obviously wanna go back for them and screw the consequences for the outcome of the sim."  
  
"I never said that!" I started, but he held up a hand to go on.  
  
"I, on the other hand, wanna finish the mission. So you guys can vote on which course of action you wanna take. All those in favour of getting this damn sim over with, say aye."  
  
"Aye," said Amara immediately, like I knew she would.   
  
Jamie looked between us and bit his lip. "Aye," he said, quiet and uncomfortable.  
  
"Aye." It was less than a grunt, but Bobby made his feelings clear, which only left Roberto unspoken for.  
  
He wavered, unsure which path to pick. All of us knew that he didn't particularly like Ray, and so it was in his nature to contradict the guy, but by the same token it didn't look like he totally disagreed with his idea either. Amara tapped her foot and peered up at him, bullying him into an answer with her gaze, and he stared at the floor to avoid it.  
  
"Well?" she said after a while. "None of us are getting any younger."  
  
"Or dryer," added Jamie, wiping a waterlogged forelock from his eyes.  
  
I waited, and he looked up at me. "Sorry Jubes, but aye."  
  
"It's fine. At least I know what all your priorities are now. God help me if we ever actually *do* go out on a real mission and get into difficulties. You'd probably throw each other off the X-Jet if it meant saving your own hides." I sounded bitter, and the culpable looks on their faces was proof enough that I'd hit a nerve. Good - I wanted them to feel guilty.  
  
"If it bothers you so much, then why don't you just fuck off and go rescue them yourself," Ray snapped, forgoing niceties to make his feelings known. "Not that they need rescuing or anything. After all, they're not in any real *danger*."  
  
I spun on my heel, taking the chance to shoot the others a withering look. "Alright then, I will. At least *I'm* not so heartless as to desert my teammates; my *friends*." I put extra emphasis on the word, but didn't stop to watch for their reaction. I can only imagine it had the required effect, even if there was no patter of footsteps hurrying to catch me up as I clumped back up the trail towards where we'd left Rahne and Sam dangling over the side of a cliff.   
  
I felt their eyes burning into the back of my head, but I didn't turn around until I was a hundred or so feet away. When I finally did turn back, only Jamie was still watching me, and he quickly rejoined the others galumphing off towards the red flag on the opposite rise once he realised I could see him.  
  
I sighed, wondering for a second whether I'd been too harsh. But it was too late to swallow my pride now, so I carried on.   
  
My progress was slow, since I didn't have anybody or anything to help me look out for probable potholes now except my own two eyes, and I clambered over boulders and debris in double the amount of time it took all of us to do likewise on the way down. Uphill was much more difficult than downhill, but I persevered, and soon I could see the summit through the rain.   
  
I quickened my step, anxious to get there. I wanted to prove that I cared enough to come back when I had the chance of leaving. It wasn't as good as scaling a cliff face, maybe, but it had to count for something, right? I mean, having the chance to get away and turning it down makes me a better person, doesn't it?  
  
Doesn't it?  
  
It was easy enough to find the spot where we'd left them, and I dashed the last few metres. I squinted, but there was no sign of anybody standing there, and I hadn't passed them on the way up, so I figured they must be waiting until Logan turned the rain off before trying to climb back up. Smart thinking. Particularly since it made it simpler for me to find them.   
  
I slowed when I got to the apex, edging my way along so I wouldn't fall off if Logan decided to hit us with a last earthquake. No point in plummeting before I could tell them I'd come back - talk about negating the whole operation. I dropped to my knees at the point that looked most familiar and leaned over; all ready to call out and tell them I was here to help.  
  
But the words died before they even reached my throat, and I could only gape at what I saw on that ledge.  
  
They were still there, the two of them. Drenched and shivering, with their hair plastered to their skulls so tight that their silhouettes looked bald until a flash of lightning lit up the scene.   
  
They were in each other's arms. And they were kissing.  
  
I'm not talking just a peck on the cheek. I mean they were lip-locked. The kind of kiss that takes three pages of a romance novel and a truckload of adjectives to describe, and even then no words can really come close. They were so near, their arms around each other like they were drowning and would die if they so much as slackened their grip, let alone let go. My breath caught in my throat, and I shrank back so that they wouldn't see me, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to look away.  
  
For a second I considered calling out to them anyway, pretending I'd only just arrived and hadn't seen anything. I wanted them to jump apart, to look up and welcome me and say how glad they were that I'd returned for them. But I didn't. I couldn't.  
  
They fitted. Crazy as it sounds, I could see it through the rain and the mist and the shadows. They seemed to... to meld, like they were two halves of the same whole. Strange, considering how different they looked. Tall, blonde and gawky; petite, dainty and a redhead. But it worked. God help me, but it worked.  
  
Inside my chest, my heart broke.  
  
They both had their eyes closed, and Sam had to lean down to reach Rahne's lips, hands cupping her chin while hers wrapped around his neck. Her hands hung slack, like she didn't know quite what to do with them, and moisture dripped from her fingertips.   
  
Time seemed to slow down around me, and my senses sharpened until I could see every microscopic detail, imprinting them in my mind until I knew they'd been burned there forever. I saw how the downpour ran in rivulets down their faces; a cascade, sliding around where they joined without the faintest hint they'd noticed it. I saw how she clung to him, desperate, almost pleading, and how his arms snaked around her, protective. I saw how they needed each other, how they needed that moment, even if I didn't understand why. I saw everything, and when it blurred into a hazy mess of colour I knew it wasn't because of rainwater in my eyes.  
  
She'd made the choice neither of us thought she'd ever make. The choice we never thought she *could* make. And she'd chosen him.  
  
She'd chosen him.  
  
I got up soundlessly, remembering my thief days and how to be a shadow even to the most perceptive onlooker. Not that it mattered. They were so absorbed in each other that they wouldn't have noticed me if I'd been wearing a one-man-band kit. I slipped away, blundering down the slope and picking up speed as I went, not caring if I fell or lost myself in a pothole. I couldn't think straight, and whether I closed or opened my eyes all I could see was the image of those two, intertwined in the rain. Her mouth on his, and his lips pressed desperately against hers the way he'd always wanted.   
  
The way I had always wanted.  
  
I ran, not knowing or caring how many rocks I tripped over or how much I stumbled. I fell numerous times, and once the fabric in the knee of my uniform tore with a loud rip and sharp jab. The red flag came into view, and I powered towards it as fast as my feet could go. I just wanted to get out of there, and I was quickly reaching the point where I didn't care who saw me in a state, so long as I could get away from those two and their not-so-secret kiss.  
  
The rain drizzled to a halt even as I was still running, and the holographic mountainside crackled away to become a sheen of metal, vents filtering the excess water away to prevent slippage. The wind died, keening into the distance, and I saw a group of figures clustered up ahead, around a taller body in orange and black. Logan was inspecting the box and nodding, and he made some remark about it as I drew near.  
  
I ignored them all and blew past before they had a chance to turn around, anxious to get away. I was fleeing more than anything else. I never thought I'd ever have to escape from anything ever again, but it was happening, and it was so real that my chest hurt and I had trouble breathing. The doors to the Danger Room clanged shut behind me, shutting me off from their cries for me to stop, to come back and explain myself. I didn't stop, not until I got to the door of my room, and even then it was only long enough to slam the door and slide the bolt into place. Then I flopped down on my unmade bed, face pressed into my pillow.  
  
And I cried.   
  
I'm ashamed to say it. I cried like a baby, and I asked myself why. Why him? Why did she have to choose at all? Weren't things good the way they were? Why did she make a choice?   
  
But more importantly, why had she chosen him over me? Why? *Why*? He'd never shown her any more affection than I had. He'd beaten his feelings for her down, just like I had, and he'd kept on just being her best friend, just like me. So why?  
  
Why...?  
  
The answers came filtering through my sobs, stealing like moths into my mind and telling me what I didn't want to hear as plain as I'm telling you now.  
  
She chose him because she feels the same way about him as he does about her. You could see it in the way they matched, the way they seemed made for each other even when they were soggy and shivering in the midst of a storm that lacked any semblance of romance. Harmonized. She chose him because she knew him - because she knows him. Sam never kept anything back from her, or from anyone. Sam had opened his heart and let everybody in right from the start.  
  
I always kept a little piece of myself back. I always had a lurid secret lurking in the background somewhere, baring its teeth whenever I got close to people. I was never totally honest with her, even when we'd stay up late and tell each other things we swore we'd never tell anybody else *ever*. Never a hundred percent. She'd tell me things, share her innermost thoughts with me, but I only gave her the edited version of mine. I was always holding something back, and somehow she knew it, too. She knew I was hiding things. Things I never wanted her to be on familiar terms with.   
  
Sam never did that. Not from her, nor from anybody. That's why people like him so much. He just offers himself up, warts and all and painfully truthful, as if to say 'here I am, this is all of me.' He's so... so completely innocent and naïve. She needs someone like him, someone she can confide in and know what he's thinking. I know that she's had pain in her life - she told me as much that first night when I found her crying on the balcony, even if she wouldn't explain what was wrong. She needs someone who can give her more stability than poor old shattered Jubilee.   
  
I can't give her what she needs, and I'll never be able to without revealing what's past and having her think less of me. Perhaps even having her hate me.  
  
It's kind of ironic. If I hadn't tried to make Sam look so bad, then she wouldn't have fallen onto that ledge and they wouldn't have had the opportunity to find each other. At least, not yet. I could've been spared this for a little while longer if I'd just left him alone, but by trying to show him up I may have pushed her into his arms. I may have driven them together and cut myself out of the loop.  
  
In which case, I've brought this on myself, and I have no right to cry. Crying is weak, and only feeble, pathetic people do it. I wanted to get up, to wash my face and forget that I ever crumbled into being so disgustingly weak. I wouldn't have survived a day on the streets by being such a soft touch. I probably wouldn't have even made it past the first hour, in fact.   
  
And yet I stayed there, curled up in my rumpled bed sheets until my tears ran dry and I just lolled onto my side, the mattress growing wet around me as rainwater trickled off and soaked into it. I suddenly felt very drained, like all my energy had seeped out of me in one fell swoop. I didn't even have sufficient power left to blink, so I closed my eyes and hoped I'd go to sleep where I could forget all about it for a while.  
  
I must've drifted a little into a doze, because when someone knocked on the door it startled me, and I snapped up like I'd been bitten.   
  
"Wha - Who is it?" My throat felt dry and sore, and my voice came out all scratchy, like I'd been eating sandpaper sandwiches and washing them down with sawdust.  
  
"It's Bobby."  
  
Oh great.   
  
I scooched over to hang my legs over the side of the mattress and rubbed at my temples. My uniform was still wet, and the indent where I'd been laying was sodden. Even better. I really didn't need a ticking off for running out on the training session, and that was obviously what he'd come to do after I was so rotten with him today. I groaned under my breath.   
  
"Listen, Jubes, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but are you OK? You took off pretty fast, and... well, Amara was under the impression you were upset about something."  
  
He sounded concerned, and I didn't know which to be more surprised about - the fact that he was actually being pleasant after the way I'd acted, or the fact that Princess Bitch had been insightful enough to realise something was wrong. I tucked my hair behind my ears and cleared my throat before answering.   
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. So how did we do? Is Logan gonna make us do the sim again?"  
  
"Well, the eggs survived, so he passed us. We don't have to do that course again for a long time, although I'm sure he'll come up with something just as sadistic in the meantime. He said we lost points for our conduct and team spirit towards the end, but we got the job done, which was the main thing." He paused, and there was the sound of shuffling on the other side of the door. "Listen, uh, Jubes, why *did* you run out like that? You passed us by so fast we didn't even realise it was you until you were gone."  
  
I sighed, but didn't make any move to open the door. I couldn't even entertain the idea of seeing him right now with the way I was feeling - and looking - so I picked a reply that would answer his question and keep him out without hurting his feelings. I'd done quite enough of that to everyone today already.   
  
"It was just women's troubles, y'know? No biggie."  
  
"Oh, uh, right. Sorry, I didn't mean to pry or anything, I just... uh... I mean - aw crap."  
  
If ever you want to get a guy off your case, then just mention those two little magic words, 'women's problems'. Sends them all skittering off to the hills, no matter whether it's actually a plausible excuse or not. I could almost feel Bobby's blush from there, but it didn't make me smile the way it normally would. Smiling requires energy, and I just didn't have enough to be contorting my face when there was nobody around to see it.   
  
"Look, Bobby, nice as it is you came to check up on me, I'm kinda busy, so is there anything else?"  
  
"Well, yeah, actually. I came up to ask if you wanted a ride to school instead of taking the bus today."  
  
"That's funny, because the last time I looked you didn't have a driver's permit."  
  
"Ha-freakin'-ha." A normal Iceman response. It seemed he'd already forgiven me for being so rude and uncooperative, and somehow that made me feel even worse about the whole thing.   
  
"Scott never usually has room for us in his car. Is one of the older kids sick or something?"  
  
"No, but Scott already left. The offer's not his."  
  
I blinked, frowning. My head hurt. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Jean wanted to talk to Beast about something this morning and saw us crawling out of the Danger Room after the training session. She felt sorry enough to bully Duncan into sharing his ride with a couple of us when he got here. He's got a new Porsche, a blue one with leather interior. Pretty neat, huh?"  
  
"Yeah. Pretty neat."   
  
Duncan Matthews. I'll bet my molars he wasn't happy about that little development. Playing carpool has got to be one of his least favourite activities unless his company have beer or breasts. Or both. I don't know what Jean sees in him. I mean, they're always arguing, and the only thing he wants is to wear her like a trinket on his arm around school. Well, that and the obvious, but I don't think she's give in to that demand yet. Jean's got sense, and the option to say no.  
  
I shivered, and it was only half to do with the cold wet fabric of my suit. Duncan Matthews is more like my 'patrons' in California than I care to realise, as well as being prime tormenter for several of us newbies. The last that I heard, he and Ray had just been stopped from a full-on show down after class last week, and he'd buried his fist in Roberto quite a few times too for looking at the wrong girls. I didn't think either of those two would be exactly thrilled at the thought of sharing a car with Duncan at the wheel.  
  
I cleared my throat again - man, I needed something to drink. "Who else is riding with them?"  
  
"Um," Bobby said, and I pictured him checking off names on his fingers. "Roberto said he'd rather ride the bus, and Ray's answer involved his butt and Duncan's face, and isn't really repeatable this early in the morning. Jamie's being tutored by the Professor instead of Beast today, so that leaves Sam, Amara, Rahne and, uh, me and you." His tone was hopeful, but I barely noticed. I was too stuck on the names he'd mentioned.   
  
Oh God, no. I couldn't face them. Not now, not yet, not - I... I just couldn't. No, no, no, *no*. They didn't know I'd seen them, they thought their little tryst was safe, but it's not. It's not! I didn't want to have to sit next to them, watching them do... do what? Coo over each other? No, that's not either of their styles. Hold hands? Pretend like nothing had happened? Had they gone public already, or had they written the entire incident off as some big, heinous mistake? Did they regret what they'd done? Had they told anyone? Did Bobby know? Was that why he was being so nice, because he felt sorry for me? But that would mean he knew about... about my feelings. So why wasn't he cursing me out as disgusting like he should be? That's the way weirdoes like me are supposed to be treated, isn't it? That's the way things are. But he couldn't know, he was just being Bobby. Argue and then forget about it five seconds later. All blown over and done with. He was just being nice, right? Right?  
  
My brain ached simply thinking about it, and I rested my head in my hands to relieve the pressure in my neck. Whatever happened, I couldn't face them. Not yet. Not until I'd got my head together.  
  
"Hey, Jubes, you still in there?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm here."  
  
"Oh. So, are you coming or what? Duncan's a bit impatient, so you'd better hurry up if you are."  
  
"Thanks, but no thanks Bobby. I think I'll walk it to school today - clear my head a little, and I can't very well do that with Matthews' music blaring into my ear. Besides, that guy has terrible taste." Keep it light so as to throw him off the scent. Nothing too heavy.  
  
It was patent that Bobby was disappointed. "Oh, right. No, that's cool. Hey, how about if I walk with you?"  
  
I looked at the clock, gauging whether I had time for a shower. My hair felt frizzy, and I was sure that rainwater wasn't especially clean - especially judging by the odd smell infused into the fibres of my costume. My shoulders were stiff with tension, and though I rolled them back, it did nothing to relieve it.  
  
"No, you'd better book it without me. I'm gonna have a quick shower before I go - get all this gunk from the training session out of my hair. If you hurry you can catch up with the others and sample that leather interior for yourself."  
  
"Sure you got time for that? I dunno, Jubes. If you stall much longer you'll be really late instead of just fashionably, like all women insist they must in order to be chic. Come on, I'm sure you look gorgeous as it is, and Duncan's waiting outside - "  
  
"Bobby," I said sharply. "I told you, I'm not riding with Duncan Matthews. I don't care how good his car is, or what brand name he has, I'm walking to school, and I'll do it when I'm good and ready to go."   
  
I was snappish, I'll admit, and the shadows just visible under my door moved away toute-de-suite.   
  
"OK, I understand. I'll just... I'll see you later at school, alright? We got math together this afternoon with Mr. Norman."  
  
I exhaled noisily and pinched at the bridge of my nose. "Look, I'm sorry Bobby, I didn't mean to be so abrupt with you, but I'm - "  
  
"It's OK, really. Women's troubles, I know, and I completely understand. I think, uh... I think Jean's got some Evening Primrose Oil, if you wanna ask her for it. Catch you later." And then he was gone.  
  
I waited a few minutes after his footsteps had faded away, just staring at the bottom of my door. A car engine started up outside, and since my room is located at the front of the mansion I instantly scrambled to the window to see Duncan et al cruising down the driveway. His Porsche was sky blue with silver trim, but unlike Scott's car it wasn't a convertible and I couldn't see anything except Matthews' arm dangling out of the driver's window. No sign of his passengers except a splash of red in the front seat that could only have been Jean. Which meant the others were all crammed into the back seat, and that mean very close quarters for all since there were four of them.  
  
The thought of Rahne and Sam pressed together for a second time that morning brought a new wave of tears to my eyes, and I turned away, forcing them to absorb back into my eyes. I would not be weak. I was strong, that's how I survived at the mall. That's how I stayed alive.  
  
I crossed the room, shucking my uniform as I went and leaving it in a puddle on the floor to join the mess already sprawled about. It hurt when I pulled it off my left leg, though, and when I looked down I saw that I'd reopened the scabby cut I got when I fell in the sim. It was leaking blood down my shin, not enough to make any great mess, but it sure as hell stung.   
  
On the way to the en suite my new bedroom came equipped with, I caught a glance at myself in the mirror on my dresser. My face was ashen, all my carefully applied make-up running from rain and crying. My mascara had made dark circles under my eyes that the Sandman wouldn't have accomplished even if he withheld all my sleep-dust for a month, and the panda blobs had left trails down my cheeks.   
  
I looked even more of a state than I'd imagined. Like a washed up harlot.  
  
How ironic.  
  
I clambered into the shower cubicle, sliding the door shut behind me and turning the water on full blast. It hit me in the face like a spray of needles, tingly until it got too hot, and I turned around and let it wash over my back, neck and shoulders. I rotated my neck, a few vertebrae cracking as they slotted into place, and let hot water flow between my shoulder blades. It was nearly scalding, but God, it felt good.   
  
Usually a shower helps me to gain perspective. I can forget my problems for a little while; let them wash away down the plughole with all the grime and dirt, if you want to be philosophical about it. Some people find relief in going to the movies, or reading a book and escaping into a fantasy world. I turn the temperature up until its just about bearable and just stand there, taking a moment to think about absolutely nothing at all save the feeling of my skin heating up and the cubicle filling up with steam until the air's warm and clammy in my lungs.   
  
But that morning it wasn't working. My head was too full of chaff and fuzz to let it go blank. I tried, I really did, but every time I thought I'd got it the image of them clasped together on the ledge popped into my mind and refused to leave again. Then my overactive imagination started creating new scenarios to torture me with. Sam and Rahne holding hands, his big fingers interweaved with her smaller ones. Sam and Rahne laughing together as they curled up on the couch to watch a movie, just the two of them. Sam and Rahne spooned; asleep in each other's arms. Sam and Rahne kissing, cuddling, caressing...  
  
My legs buckled, and I sank down to sit in the bottom of the shower with my back pressed against the wall. I wanted to cry, to let it all out, but I'd done such a good job forcing the tears back in that I couldn't. They wouldn't come. Water thundered down on the top of my skull, running into my eyes and acting like surrogate tears as they dripped down off my nose and jaw.  
  
I looked down and saw that my leg was still bleeding, a thin red trail stretching across the base of the cubicle to the plughole. Morbidly I watched it until it faded away, then drew my legs up and pressed my forehead against my knees.  
  
I'd lost them both. Two's company and all that jazz. They wouldn't have time for me anymore, not now that they had each other. And I didn't want to spend any time with them as a couple anyway. I didn't want to watch them be happy. I didn't want her to be happy with him, or with anybody else except me, and now that could never happen. Never ever.  
  
My two best friends and the girl I stupidly fell in love with, both gone in the space of a single training session.   
  
And do you want to know the worst part? I think I still love her, even though she made her choice and it wasn't me. I still have the same old feelings, and they won't die and leave me alone. It's like my brain knows it's over, but my heart just refuses to accept it - except that sounds so corny it's not true.   
  
I still want Sam as my friend, too, but at the same time I can't bear to look at him, because he's got what I wanted, and however much it hurts, he's the better candidate. He'll love her and cherish her with that big heart of his, and I can tell that she'll love him back and tell him everything she never told me. He won't have to content himself with watching her as she sleeps like I did when we shared rooms, catching glimpses of her with her defences down and marvelling that such a small thing could be so strong and full of life. He won't have to, because she'll show him herself. She'll let him in on secrets only they two will share. She'll trust him and entrust him with everything she has.  
  
If he hurts her, I'll kill him.  
  
Yeah, I remember that morning very clearly. That was the day my heart broke.  
  
___________________   
FIN.  
  
___________________ 


End file.
